Let It Burn
by Jade Crimson Tears
Summary: Tabloidshipping. But there's a side to you. That I never knew. All the things you'd say. They were never true. And the games you play. You would always win. - Adele. Kaiba x Mokuba


Let It Burn

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**_Disclaimer: I do NOT own Yugioh _**

**_Warning: rated for incest, violence, and profanity_**

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It is four o'clock in the morning. I am sitting in the kitchen with a mug of tea, cold and shaking. The last time I picked up Nisama's tracker was at the downtown bar, before he switched his cell phone off. Knowing his after-party habits, I am trying hard not to throw what is in my hand into the nearest wall.

At exactly thirty-four minutes later, I hear the door slam. Given that the kitchen is the only lit room in the mansion, I presume he is making his way to where I am, and failing at it.

I go to the living room to turn on the light, and find Nisama leaning against the wall.

Upon noticing me, he flicks me a cocky grin. "Like what you see?"

I grimace. "Far from it, actually."

"You didn't have to wait up."

"I wanted to make sure that you didn't choke on your own vomit."

He barks out a bitter laugh. "Please, could I be such an incompetent drunk?"

Nisama's silk shirt is half undone, and his jeans are riding low on his hips, showing skin. I avert my eyes; I cannot stand the sight of him.

"Do you have any idea what time it is? You were supposed to be home for dinner seven hours ago."

"Get off my case. I was just out to have some fun."

"And who did you have _fun_ with this time around?" I take a sip from my tea, feigning composure. "A pretty assistant, or a tarty associate?"

"Gods, Mokuba, you sound like a domestic housewife."

I steady my tea. "And you, a whoring slut."

There is something wild in Nisama's eyes. I have never seen them this blue, or so heated. Knowing that I am the reason for him to look like _that_ makes me want to provoke him until he is angry enough to hurt me.

He closes the distance between us and slams his palm against the wall next to my head.

"Say it again, I dare you."

I raise my lips to whisper into his ear. _"You. Whoring. Slut."_

"Mmm." He licks my jawline, making my breath hitch. "Order me to stop, and I'll drop them like dead flies."

The insides of my gut are twisting. "Fuck you, Seto."

"Wouldn't you love to try?"

"I'd really rather not."

"Is that so? Am I not good enough for you?" He asks lazily, nuzzling my neck.

"Since when have you turned into a fucking whore?"

"There is no crime in wanting you." His voice is husky beside my ear. "Please give this dead heart something."

I try to push him away. I don't know why I argue with Nisama, when he wins at every game we play. I don't know why he waits for me to get my life into order, before driving his to the ground.

"I hate you. Let me go."

He looks at me for a long time. "You are just sour because I'm not your slut, your whore."

I choke back a cry. The thought of anyone touching Nisama makes me want to kill. Something inside of me is breaking even though I am not supposed to care, have no right to care. As jealousy takes over, I begin to see red.

I don't realize that I am lashing out until the mug in my hand smashes against Nisama's skull. All I want is to see him bleed, to see if I hit a nerve, because no one should be allowed to have an effect on him other than me. I keep hitting until we both fall over and there is nothing left but a handle in my hand.

Nisama grabs the back of my head and crushes our lips together, making me taste the pungent alcohol on his tongue. Pain turns him on, but then I am just as turned on as he is. How long have we denied ourselves of this, with me acting like a good Catholic school boy and him, screwing around until he just doesn't _care_ anymore?

Nisama's hands are all over me, making me gasp and moan and driving me to the brink of insanity. It is as if every nerve in my body is on fire. I grind against him, yet still wishing for us to be closer; I want to mould myself into him forever.

The scent of blood and musk is in the air, making me giddy and wanton with desire. I fist my fingers through Nisama's hair, as my mouth sucks at the wound on his head. I want to scream "I love you" at him a thousand times over until I tattoo it onto his heart, brand it onto his soul.

Nisama throws his head back and arches into me, reaching his climax. I follow shortly after, as waves after waves of pleasure jolt through my body. My most honoured brother, I will never be able to share him with anyone, ever again.

I don't know why I believe that someday, I will kill Nisama by my own hand.

Our love is a mixture of obsession and ownership. We are the reason for the other to get out of bed, to make it to the next day. But do we not share the same surname still? Have we lost the plot somehow, somewhere along the way?

To Nisama, sometimes the skies are so dark it is impossible for him to conceive a future, to envisage tomorrow, but I tell him to hold on, to me, for a change in weather.

We are beyond broken. We are a mess of tangled limbs on the floor.


End file.
